With an additional nineteen vessels there are now ninety-seven active vessels in SR-651, enough firepower to scour a whole imperial sector or launch a small crusade. It’s the sort of gathering that one might see once a century in the Koronus Expanse, and I am not happy to be in the middle of it.
Calligos Winterscale is quick to take advantage by hosting a circus performance on his grand cruiser, Emperor’s Vow. I am unsure if there is a secondary aning to his choice of entertainnt, or if he just likes a good joke.
However, I soon find myself sitting in a private room with Inquisitors Lyre Hamiz and Raphael Horthstein, Chapter Master Lir Brackin and Head Librarian Aengus Mhanaigh, Rogue Trader Calligos Winterscale, Vice-Admiral Thalk von Styrvold, and Cannoness Ephrine Stern watching an acrobatic fire performance of superlative skill.
Stained glass lamps cast soft, colourful light and grand shadows over the room as we lounge in huge armchairs upholstered in painted silk, each showing a different type of monster. I have the singular joy of a sinuous, deep sea monster glaring at from beneath my fingers and my buttocks are smothering a giant squid. The other guests’ seats are equally as unflattering, though the painter’s skill is exquisite.
The room itself is much more welcoming, with a series of scenes painted on the walls showing different environnts from tundra to cloud forests and oceans to deserts.
Despite Calliogos’ suspect motives, he really knows the one unifying interest between our disparate imperial branches and turning our love of purging flas into an act of physical skill and beauty keeps almost everyone’s attention for a whole five minutes. Ephrine, however, keeps glancing at during the performance, her emotions a tangled ss, underpinned with determination.
Eventually, Ephrine gives in and starts the evening’s conversation proper, our platitudes and small talk long since exhausted during our brief introductions to each other.
“Magos, there have been strange rumours of a machine man who wields faith like Adepta Sororitas. It has sparked much debate among our number, so we hitched a ride to see if it were true. Perhaps you could help lay these ridiculous claims to rest so that we can return to the Emperor’s work. I dislike being distracted by mundane gossip.”
Ephrine is a short woman, one hundred and sixty-four centitres, with white dyed hair and a pixie cut. She wears thick black robes, trimd with white and embroidered with gold fleur de lis on the cuffs and a single one over her heart.
Lir puts on a big grin and muscles in on the conversation before I can get over my shock at Ephrine’s blunt question.
“Dear lady, your search is at an end. I have personally seen the good Magos perform miracles, his hands wreathed in the purifying flas of our gene father. No doubt the Inquisitors have seen sothing similar. Magos Issengrund is rather fond of waving about his blesséd authority.”
“A Space Marine lecturing on over using shock and awe?” I say. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
“I’m not hearing a denial, Magos,” says Ephrine, her lips are pressed in a thin line and the soft arms of her chair compress beneath her strong grip.
Lyre is just as fast on the uptake, “I’m afraid there is little for him to deny, Canoness. Magos Issengrund healed my wounds and blessed my mind, freeing of doubt. My protege, Raphael, wears a rosette blessed by Magos Issengrund against demonic sorceries and physical strikes. It was tested during his last fight and was remarkably effective. His skills are far more than just the purifying flas all navigators are capable of.”
“Oh, you're missing one, Teacher,” says Raphael. “Magos Issengrund recently blessed his daughter to overco the perfidious puzzles of the Great Enemy and she glowed with His power for nine days. It would appear that not only can Magos Issengrund call on the Emperor’s power, he can do so at will.”
Raphael looks much the sa as before with his blonde hair and broad shoulders, though the marks of his surgery are yet to fade from his face and hands. He sits incredibly still, as if wary of bumping into unmoving furniture.
“Poppycock!” says Thalk, “I didn’t co here to listen to tall tales. I want a proper accounting of our missing ship and crew!”
Thalk is a decrepit old man, his skin covered in liver spots and his body supported by a chanical fra. One his back, an external, low quality Vitae Supplent whirs and clicks with irritating regularity. His heavy uniform hangs on him like a curtain and there are so many dals pinned across his chest, the bar that holds them all has a small anti-grav device that stops him from keeling over from the great weight of precious tals. A rebreather covers his mouth and nose with two tubes that run along his cheeks leading to his back.
Calligos says, “Personally I was rather curious as to why House Ortellius commissioned to transport over a hundred navigators. I was fearful there is a sche afoot that would cost the Imperium dearly, yet perhaps it is the opposite? If Magos Issengrund is a navigator, as Inquisitor Hamiz claims, then where are his mutations? A rather odd coincidence don’t you think?”
I say, “My business with House Ortellius is my own, Trader Calligos. Know that my work easing the burdens of my brethren has been overseen by the Custodes, though I am far from infallible. This body is not flesh, it just looks like it. The Custodes presence about my person for a short ti can be confird by Chapter Master Lir. He does seem rather keen to talk about at length.”
Although I am giving away information I would rather not, I hope my words mislead Calligos. It is better to be known as a superb craftsman of cybernetics than a manipulator of stubborn, warped flesh.
“Indeed I am,” says Lir. “Magos Issengrund has gifted our chapter with many marvels. Two Custodes walked upon Grave’s Bite not even a year ago and one departed with Magos Issengrund.”
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“Well now,” says Calligos, “such interesting tis we live.”
“The miracles?” says Ephrine.
“I cannot call upon the Emperor at will, for none may command him,” I say. “I can ask, but it is not without cost, so I will thank you not to ask for a demonstration.”
“Really? You were rather free with your skills when we last t,” says Lir.
“You had a much bigger fleet than at the ti and there was no escape from your guns,” I say, my tone drier than a necron tomb. “I wanted to make a good impression. As for Inquisitors Hamiz and Horthstein, the clue is in their title.” I turn to Ephrine, “I do not an to belittle you Canoness, but when given the choice to make a battlefleet or a hundred Sisters think twice before they shoot, I’d choose the battlefleet every ti, even if you are sitting next to with a bolt pistol on your hip.”
Ephrine gives a small smile, “I supposed arguing logic with a Magos is a lost cause.”
“What sort of cost are we talking about?” says Calligos, rubbing his hands dramatically. Calligos is a large man, near a hundred and ninety centitres tall. His arms bulge with artificial strength and his wavy black hair clings to his head like a thick wool cap. Despite his friendly smile, his expression and thoughts hold a hint of mania, as if he is an ill-considered thought from striking everyone and everything in reach.
“Nothing you would ever want to pay,” I say.
“Co now, Magos. Must you leave with another puzzle?” says Calligos.
“The Inquisitors know and they will not share it with you,” I say. “That should tell you all you need to know about not looking too closely.”
I already have a big enough target on my back without it becoming widely known that my soul partly fuels the Astronomicon. Unfortunately, there is very little I can do to hide the answer if Calligos asks the right questions to those with the eyes to see Mount Tai. I laugh in my head at the thought, crushing my fear with the proficiency of practice. It never gets any easier though as the threats to my person and family grow like soylent viridans.
Calligos says, “How dull. Fine. I suppose I will just have to investigate for myself. I’m sure so of your crew would love so extra luxuries.”
I laugh, “I wouldn't waste your ti barking up that tree if I were you.”
“Magos Issengrund is correct,” says Raphael. “Do not test your fortunes on this, Rogue Trader.”
Calligos shrugs, though the fury builds within his disciplined mind. There is a hint of long buried resentnt bubbling up from the depths, though he does not dwell on its origins enough for to glean anymore from his mind.
“Let us move on and answer Vice-Admiral Thalk’s question before his Vitae Supplent gives out,” I say.
“It’s not actually about to do that, is it, Magos?” says Thalk, sounding a little nervous.
“It is well maintained, but poorly made. I would not rely on it if I were you and get so proper bionics. Perhaps a new shell entirely if you want to make it through the next decade.”
Thalk says, “That is not reassuring in the slightest. What do you an by shell?”
“A full, cybernetic and bionic replacent of your body. I suppose you could also place yourself inside a younger clone of yourself, or find a biomancer of sufficient skill to turn back the clock. You’ve long since exhausted easier rejuvenat treatnts.”
“I did not know such things were possible, a topic for another ti, however,” says Thalk. “My duty cos first. I have read the redacted accounts provided by the Inquisition and they leave much to be desired. Why was a newly refurbished ship sent into the sun?”
Raphael frowns, “Vice-Admiral Thalk. We are in a system that has just fought off a Warp incursion and is in the throes of a zombie plague. Must I spell out what sort of threat that required purging?”
Thalk trembles, “No. I have no desire to be censured for doing my job. Again. I do expect a replacent though. This did happen under Magos Issengrund’s watch.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I say, “The ship arrived already damned and would never have been lost had soone bothered to properly screen the two Dallactarius IV scions for corruption.”
“We did!” says Thalk.
“To give the Navy its due,” says Raphael, “Magos Issengrund’s Psy-Errant only noticed because they spotted corrupt warding runes, hidden on a ring that the scion wore. If it wasn’t for the uncommon expertise most of his fleet have on wards, it likely would never have been noticed until it was too late. The ring even hid the scion’s corruption from the heavy frigate’s navigator. I have since compiled the required knowledge available within the Stellar Fleet on the subject and I am training specialists of my own. These warding experts will be distributed around the Koronus Expanse once I am done.”
“I want a copy,” says Thalk.
I say, “Such knowledge is only suitable for Tech-Priests. You can send so of your lex chanics to learn on the Iron Crane so long as they have sothing worth exchanging for it. Unless you plan on changing your career and working for , you will not receive your own.”
Thalk says, “Inquisitor Raphael isn’t a Tech-Priest.”
“He’s learning,” I say.
“Really?” says Lyre. “That’s unexpected.”
“Everyone who grows up in my fleet becos a Tech-Priest eventually. Newcors have much catching up to do, but there are no exceptions. Raphael is now my Master of Whispers. He can’t do his job monitoring everyone if he doesn’t understand what they’re discussing, or even speak Lingua-Technis.”
Lyre chuckles, “Rather you than , my boy.”
“At least it cos with new toys, Teacher.”
Those two are really hamming up their relationship today.
“Are you all done with your questions?” I say. “I rather thought I was here to watch a show. Instead it appears I have been roped in with the horrors of audience participation.”
“I want to hear it from your lips, Magos,” says Ephrine. “You’ve more than implied you can call on the Emperor’s power, but I want a direct yes or no. Many n of influence and power have spoken for you, so I am willing to take you at your word for now, but I must have sothing to take back to my Sisters.”
“Canoness Ephrine, while I have great admiration for the strength of faith shown by your order, I owe you nothing and we are new acquaintances. I do not want to borrow trouble and so I shall not claim I can call upon the Emperor’s power. To do so would be the height of arrogance and the domain of charlatans. Only actions can give you the confirmation you desire and I have refused to perform.” I point at the mostly ignored and ongoing performance, “I prefer to leave that to the professionals. However, I will offer you and your Sisters a place in my Fleet, should you wish to follow and find out.”
Ephrine gives a sharp nod, “I will discuss your offer with my Sisters.”
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